Humanity 101
by DianeB
Summary: Captain Picard meets Seven-of-Nine. A "Voyager-makes-it-home" story, set after the Season 4 episode, "Message in a Bottle." Are we allowed to say we have a favorite among our own stories? If so, this one is mine!


Title:Humanity 101  
Author:DianeB  
Rating:PG

Summary:(05/01): This was written in October, 1998, and is a "_Voyager_ makes it home" story, set after the fourth season, "Message in a Bottle." It was written because one of my fanzine editors not-so-innocently asked me if I would please write a story wherein Picard meets Seven-of-Nine. Turns out, I've never worked harder on a story than I did on this one, and it remains one of my favorites. Rated PG.

Disclaimer:Paramount owns it all. Always has, always will. I accept this.

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While the plasma cleared Engineering, Picard, hanging on a ladder above it all, gazed at the Borg bodies as they were revealed. Stepping down from the ladder, he placed his feet together carefully on the floor and began to make his way across the room, his face reflecting a conflicting mix of rage and wonder.

A soft sound drew his attention and he picked his way through the metallic carnage to reach the source. It was the glittering, cybernetic bit that was all that was left of the Borg Queen, and he watched in grisly fascination as it continued to hiss and rattle on the floor. A row of red lights blinked down what had obviously been her spine.

He squatted and picked it up, grimacing, his stomach heaving at the feel of the still-warm metal in his hands. In one quick sharp movement, he snapped the spine. It sputtered to silence in his hand and he dropped it, the dead metal clattering onto the floor, echoing in the silent room.

He felt grim satisfaction at his action, and at the sight of the lifeless Borg drones around him. It was over. He could put all his ghosts to rest now, all his Ensign Lynchs could sleep in peace. In this grotesque version of the story, Captain Ahab had soundly defeated his whale.

At the sound of Data's voice, he turned…

**oOo oOo oOo**

On the other side of the galaxy, in another century, Borg drone Seven-of-Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, regenerating passively in her alcove, jerked hard and felt an unfamiliar coldness sweep through her, as did all the Borg in the Collective. The Queen was dead, and even before the question of who did it could completely form itself in this drone's consciousness, the answer was revealed.

There was a momentary struggle and something akin to flailing about, if it could ever be said that Borg could collectively "flail," and then order was restored to the hive mind. All was well. They had adapted.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Advance three years:

The starship _Voyager_ was in Party Mode, had been for the past week, and it didn't look like the merrymaking would be slowing down anytime soon.

Simply put, they were home.

After a solid month of fixing, fussing, fooling, fidgeting, and fighting, B'Elanna, Tom, Harry, and Seven (a.k.a.: the "Delta Quad," as Sue Nicoletti had affectionately dubbed them), along with most of the Engineering alpha shift had come up with a clever modification to the quantum slipstream technology that would actually allow _Voyager_ to utilize it again without destroying the starship and turning them all into chunky salsa.

Then B'Elanna went to test the thing and before any of them could take another breath, they were back in the Alpha Quadrant. Granted, they were at the exact coordinates B'Elanna had flippantly entered for the test, that of the spot where Starfleet's experimental prototype ship, _Prometheus_, had been. But even though they were at the far reaches of the quadrant, weeks away from the nearest starbase and even further from Earth, it was still _their_ quadrant.

While no one on board, including the terminally-optimistic Harry Kim, was foolish enough to believe their surprise homecoming would be a breeze, for the time being the party was _on_. Replicator rations be damned!

**oOo oOo oOo**

The powers that be at Starfleet Command had decided, and Janeway had agreed, that news of the return of _Voyager_ would be kept quiet until they had reached Starbase 147 and were met by Picard and the _Enterprise_-E, where she and her crew would begin their debriefing.

God, "debrief." How Kathryn Janeway had come to hate that word. Actually, the word itself posed no threat, but she knew Starfleet often hid sharp barbs within it, barbs that would pierce a career in a second and create wounds that could take a lifetime to heal, if ever. She only had to look at Chakotay or Tom Paris to know how true this was. She wondered what Starfleet would have to say about her own change in attitude. _Debrief_, indeed.

Nevertheless, until they physically reached the starbase, she was unable to do anything more than spend hours in her ready room, making verbal reports to Admiral Hayes, who had been assigned as liaison for Starfleet.

The Holodoctor had already provided a detailed report to Starfleet while he had been aboard the _Prometheus_, but the Admiral admitted he had not done much more than scan the report, preferring instead to speak directly to her. Even though it was taking up immense amounts of time, she was glad for his preference. The Holodoctor's report was clinical, just the bare facts, and she had been feeling an increasingly urgent need to supplement that report with her personal observations and sentiments about her crew. Speaking directly to Hayes had given her a chance to fulfill this need without having to ask for it.

She made special effort to mention Chakotay, B'Elanna, Seven (of course, Seven!), Kes, Neelix, Samantha Wildman's daughter, Naomi, Lon Suder, even Seska, Michael Jonas, and the Holodoctor himself in an effort to be certain the Admiral fully understood the magnitude of the uniqueness of her starship, her people, and what they had been through, up to and including their current worries about being back in the Alpha Quadrant.

Her throat was raw from it, but she'd be damned if she'd stop talking until she was asked to. There was too much at stake to do anything less.

When her voice had cracked for the third time in as many minutes, the Admiral decided he had heard enough – at least until they reached the starbase. He signed off and she sighed audibly, took a sip of her cold coffee to ease her aching throat, and turned to more pleasant matters, that of the report on the PADD on the desk in front of her.

With her consent, Chakotay had been actively participating in the revelry of the past week, and this was amusingly evident in his weekly crew report. It contained a wild array of stray comments and odd punctuation and was packed full of the kind of sexual innuendo usually reserved for teenaged boys' fantasies. Clearly, this report was for her eyes only, and it made her curious as to just how much Romulan ale a human could consume without losing all cognizant abilities, and if perhaps Chakotay had already gone past that point.

She wondered why he had bothered with the report at all, since she had told him he could skip it, but glancing down, her eye caught a particularly suggestive sentence about what he might do if she appeared at the party, and she suddenly knew why he had bothered. She grinned and put the PADD in her top drawer.

_Definitely_ time to go join the debauchery.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Captain Picard received the news in his ready room just at the start of ship's evening.

"Captain Picard, I'm sorry to disturb you during your off-duty time."

Picard knew immediately by this apology that whatever the reason for the contact, it was not an emergency, but his curiosity had definitely been piqued.

"That's quite all right, Admiral Hayes." Facing the screen, he leaned slightly forward in his chair. "What can I do for you?"

The Admiral huffed and settled back into his chair. He knew his reputation as a "windbag" would suffer for this, but as he had just finished with Kathryn Janeway, he was not in the mood to beat around the bush.

"Picard, _Voyager_ is back."

This was perhaps the last thing Picard had been expecting to hear, but it nevertheless sent a chill of excitement down his spine. He had, of course, heard about the brief contact that had been made through a network of alien communication relay stations, but he had not been privy to the finer details of that contact. He was under the assumption that it would still be another sixty years or so until this ship would reach the Alpha Quadrant, despite the fact that Starfleet Research & Development was hard at work trying to come up with a faster way. Apparently their research was no longer necessary.

"Can you explain how this happened, sir?"

The Admiral related the story he had heard from Janeway, all about the slipstream technology and about the fact that it seemed a genuine _slip_ indeed had landed them safely home.

Although it would be a while until _Voyager_ reached the nearest starbase, the Admiral believed it was not too soon to begin making some plans.

"Captain, I want the _Enterprise_-E at Starbase 147 to meet _Voyager_ when she arrives. I want you to download all her logs and begin crew debriefings.

"You've got your work cut out for you, Picard, I can tell you that. Janeway said there were 150 crewmembers aboard. Take as many additional counselors and security officers as you feel might be necessary to the task. Once that process has begun, we'll see to the business of a formal announcement of the ship's return."

Picard dropped back a sentence. "Pardon me, did you say security officers?"

"Yes, I did. As you may know, the crew of _Voyager_ is a blend of Starfleet personnel and…Maquis resistance fighters. I questioned Janeway on this, but she claims the ship is run strictly as a Starfleet vessel and that the Maquis are active, functioning members of her crew. She stood most adamantly behind this point."

It was clear by the way Hayes repeated these words that he did not quite believe Kathryn Janeway, adamant or not.

"She also mentioned three crewmembers they picked up along the way. One female, an Ocampan, left the ship as she was being transformed into another lifeform, similar to the Zalkonian race you encountered on the _Enterprise_-D. Another is a Talaxian, now their cook and morale officer, and the third, well, Janeway claims the third one is a Borg drone they successfully severed from the Collective who is now a functioning member of their crew, working in the Astrometrics Lab. They call her Seven. It was she, apparently, who was able to increase the range of the astrometric sensors enough to take advantage of the alien relays that produced the first word we had that the darned ship was still in one piece at all.

"Janeway says she's human, used to be Annika Hansen. Of course, we checked our records and, sure enough, the Hansen's took off from Deep Space Four about twenty-one years ago with their five-year-old daughter in a ship called the _Raven_ and were never heard from again. I guess we know now where they ended up and what happened to them.

"As for those Maquis, well, I'm just not so sure I trust them as much as Janeway does, which is why I suggested more security. You never know what plans they might have now that they're back in the Alpha Quadrant. They're criminals, you know, and even though we've neutralized all Maquis activity, the warrants for the arrests of _Voyager_'s Maquis are still outstanding. They will be expected to answer for their crimes."

But Jean-Luc Picard had heard nothing beyond the Admiral's words about a Borg being _successfully_ severed from the Collective.

_How could that possibly be?_

He recalled his own words clearly, spoken with the emotionless certainty of one who'd been through that particular hell: _"You may encounter _Enterprise_ crewmembers who've already been assimilated. Don't hesitate to fire. Believe me, you'll be doing them a favor."_

The chill in his spine turned to ice, even as a fine sheen of sweat coated him. The Admiral had paused and was obviously waiting for a response. He blinked and came around.

"I'm sorry, sir. What was that?"

If the Admiral noticed this stumble, he chose not to comment on it. "I said, so you can see why you might need additional security officers."

He would replay this conversation once he got the Admiral off the line, which he desperately needed to do. "Yes, sir."

"Okay, then." The Admiral stood and put his palms flat on his desk. "That's it. We expect _Voyager_ back in the neighborhood in three weeks and we expect you to be at the station to greet her. In the meantime, I'll have all of Janeway's reports as well as the Holodoctor's transferred to you to bring you up to snuff."

"Yes, sir."

The Admiral signed off.

Picard stood, yanked savagely at his uniform and tried to regain some emotional balance before Troi came hunting him.

His communicator beeped. "Troi to Captain Picard."

Too late. "Picard here."

"Captain, what is it?"

He resigned himself to the inevitable. She was only doing her job, after all, and more than once during his time with her, he had been extremely grateful for her professional, as well as genetic, abilities. He strode to the other side of the room, stopping in front of Livingston II's aquarium, and watched the lionfish swim lazy eights in the water.

He knew the comm channel was still open, knew Troi was waiting.

"Counselor, might I have a few moments of your time?"

He spent, in fact, two hours with her, two hours reliving every hideous moment he spent as Locutus of Borg, every second he spent fighting against all odds to save his new ship, his crew, and the entire Alpha Quadrant from becoming their own worst nightmares.

He had always believed his own return to humanity after being assimilated had happened only because his crew had been willing to risk their lives to get him back and that it had really only been an odd sort of cosmic luck that he or any of the rest of them had survived at all.

And now, just when he was positive he had done the right thing at every turn, all the way down the line, he was being hung out to dry by his own convictions.

It was possible for Borg to be un-assimilated, rehabilitated, restored to the species they had been before they were forced to become part of the Collective. There was living proof aboard _Voyager_ and in a very short while he would be meeting her.

**oOo oOo oOo**

_Voyager_ had finally settled down. A good thing, too, as the Holodoc was about ready to space the entire balance of his detox hyposprays, claiming the crew had simply gone too far after six of them (the "Delta Quad," plus Sue Nicoletti and Joe Carey) had stormed drunkenly into Sickbay and stripped him naked to check the accuracy of his "subroutines." They gave him just enough time to slap on his mobile holoemitter before they carried him and his bag o' hyposprays off to Neelix's resort program on Holodeck Two.

The only thing that saved the hypos and their inebriated rear ends was that they had remembered to activate the doc's holowife, Charlene. When she appeared from behind a palm tree, clad in little more than he, he tossed the hypos at B'Elanna, encircled his wife's slim waistline and made off with her to a secluded corner.

That was the final incident before the crew as a whole, without any direction from Janeway, began to rally for what was to come, organizing themselves in proper Starfleet fashion, preparing themselves and their ship for official reception back into Federation territory.

The daily wish this ragtag bunch had been making for the past four years was about to come true, and the old adage glared painfully in the harsh light of reality: be careful what you wish for.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Picard started with the Holodoctor's report. The report was dry, so he was listening with only half an ear until the moment the Holodoc began speaking about the First Officer's experiences with Dr. Riley Frazier and the New Cooperative.

He snapped to full attention, listening intently to what he already knew, that Dr. Frazier had been a science officer aboard the _Roosevelt_ when the Borg attacked. At Wolf 359. Picard's personal memory of that event was still as clear as the moment it had occurred, although _when_ it was occurring he was not a distinctly individual personality.

Because he did not remain Locutus for very long after that, he did not know what became of all those assimilated at Wolf 359. It was more than simple relief he felt at the knowledge that at least _some_ of the victims of that horrid battle had survived their assimilation.

After listening to this entire section, however, he realized he was no more convinced than Janeway that the New Cooperative was any better than the Collective itself. Nevertheless, this group had made it back to their original species and Dr. Frazier seemed positive they could use their Borg technology to create a better world for themselves.

For the first time since he heard the news about Seven-of-Nine, he felt a surge of hope that he might not end up in hell for the evil he had conducted as Locutus of Borg.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Tom Paris hitched up _Voyager_ to the docking bay smooth as a baby's behind. _Manually_. In spite of his growing apprehension about his future, he swiveled in his chair and beamed at Janeway, unable to keep his pride in check or a silly-ass comment from his lips.

"Couple quarters for the meter and we're good to go, Captain."

In spite of her own jitters, his smile was infectious and she found herself grinning back at him. "Well done, Tom. Thank you."

She stood, coughed to clear her throat, walked to the center of the bridge and tapped her communicator to open a ship-wide hail. This was it, but she knew her crew was ready. Chakotay and, oddly enough, Tuvok, had been in the mess hall for the past two hours, serving as pseudo-counselors, meeting with anyone who needed to, Maquis and Starfleet alike, talking them through any last-minute anxiety attacks.

The mess hall was empty.

She squared her shoulders and began. "This is Kathryn Janeway. We have docked at Starbase 147. We are in bay number 23, a little less than 1.6 kilometers from the center of the station. Please leave your personal belongings at the entrance to your quarters and prepare to disembark according to the prearranged schedule.

"Proceed directly to conference hall two, located on level five. I have been told there will be…_guides_…along the route to make sure you arrive at the proper location.

"As you know, news of our return has not yet been shared with anyone outside of Starfleet Command, so I imagine these first few days will be tough. Keep your heads up, folks. We've been through worse than this. We can do this."

She paused and softened her tone. "I'm right behind you, my friends, right behind _all_ of you."

She signed off and gave herself a mental shake to clear away the last of the jitters that threatened to manifest themselves in very real teardrops. She returned to her chair and watched as the bridge cleared. Paris, last off, gave her a thumbs-up and another wide smile as the turbolift doors closed on him.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Picard spent several hours on Janeway's reports. He heard the plea for leniency in her voice as she spoke of her Maquis crew, naming them all individually, and of others such as Tom Paris, whose days as a free man might very well be numbered. She emphasized his courage, how much he had changed for the better since she picked him up in New Zealand.

She spoke of B'Elanna Torres, now her Chief Engineer, her tone just this side of begging, asking that B'Elanna be given a chance to prove how different she was, how committed.

Picard continued listening, making note of all references to Seven-of-Nine, regarding with particular interest that it was no accident that Seven was no longer Borg.

While Dr. Frazier and the others had been severed from the Collective by an unexpected electrokinetic storm, this was not the case for Seven. In essence, she had been tricked by Janeway, cut violently from the Collective using Chakotay and his New Cooperative neurotranceiver mind link to distract her while B'Elanna duplicated the same sort of power surge that had originally severed the New Co-op. This had been done very much against her will, and she had been denied her demand to be returned.

He noted Janeway's very simple reason for doing what she had done. Seven-of-Nine, speaking on behalf of the Collective, had threatened her crew with assimilation, had gone back on the uneasy alliance they had made to thwart Species 8472.

Janeway had one other reason. Seven-of-Nine was human, she was already _with_ her people, and since the damage had been done at her own hands, Janeway felt a deep responsibility towards her. She would not simply abandon Seven on the nearest planet, no matter what kind of angry, insistent noises the drone made.

At first, Picard wondered if Janeway would have done the same thing if Seven had not been human, but he immediately dismissed that idea. Of course she would have. It was abundantly clear in her reports that Janeway would go to the wall to rescue anyone in need of rescuing, no matter the circumstances leading to the need, which was something he could not honestly say of himself.

Seven's continued mention in Janeway's reports ebbed and flowed with progress and backsliding, but Kathryn Janeway's tone turned so frequently compassionate, forgiving, and even _maternal_ that Picard forgot at one point that she was speaking of a former Borg drone.

To say he was astounded at the depth of Janeway's devotion, not only to Seven but also to her entire crew, would have been an understatement of great degree. Certainly he was devoted to his own crew, but this was something far different, something umbilical, something that her experiences in the Delta Quadrant had given solely to her. He was rather jealous.

But he made a determination right then and there that this extraordinary level of dedication and devotion would not be allowed to founder and die in the face of Starfleet Admirals and their rules and regulations.

In a flash, he saw a way he could begin to atone for the fatal errors he had made at the hands of the Borg.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Janeway lingered a while on her quiet, deserted bridge, so she was the last to leave _Voyager_ and did not hear the shouts and exclamations until she was almost fully to the ship's exit. Chakotay, standing at the top of the staircase leading to the docking bay floor, wore an ear-splitting grin as he watched the chaos unfolding below him.

It appeared as though Starfleet, against all protocol she had ever heard of, nevermind all of Hayes' plans of the past three weeks, had decided to go ahead and notify friends and family.

As her eyes traveled around the huge bay, she saw many members of her crew locked in embraces with persons she expected they thought they would never see again. It did not appear as though _any_ member of her crew was without someone to meet them, and this included her Maquis crewmembers. She was puzzling over this when she heard a dog barking, a _familiar_ dog barking. She turned her head towards the sound and there, approaching the foot of the stairs, was her mother and her dog, Molly, barely able to contain her canine joy at seeing her mistress again.

Chakotay reached out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze and then stepped aside to allow her to descend the stairs ahead of him. When she reached the bottom, she fell into her mother's arms and wept, Molly leaping and barking shrilly around them.

**oOo oOo oOo**

"Seven-of-Nine?"

Decidedly uncomfortable amid the emotional displays going on around her and seriously considering retreat, Seven turned quickly to the vague familiarity of the voice. Her eyes went round and her implant-brow arched as she encountered the face of the man who…who, what? She struggled with a veiled memory, buried in her subconscious, so deep as to be almost irretrievable. _Almost_.

"Locutus. You…served the Queen at…the battle of Wolf 359, but you…betrayed the Borg by killing the Queen."

His vision swam for a moment under the crushing truth of this comment, but only for a moment. He sucked in a breath and forced himself to speak, setting his words out in measured, well-rounded tones, looking directly into her ice-blue eyes. He was not about to permit mere words to undo him, no matter who spoke them or how true they might be.

"No, I am not Locutus. I…_was_ Locutus, and you are right about what I did. But I am not Locutus anymore. Before I was Locutus, I was Jean-Luc Picard, and now I am Jean-Luc Picard again." He felt as though he was babbling insensibly, but she seemed to understand.

"Yes. You are…like me." She hesitated, then went on. "I…am Seven-of-Nine and I…assimilated…many species. Before I was Seven-of-Nine, I was Annika Hansen, and now…I am…Annika Hansen again." Another hesitation, an inner focus, accompanied by an expression that seemed to indicate she was considering a choice between several options. "But you…may call me…Seven." She held out her right hand to him.

In spite of his earlier conviction, this eerily-correct comparison had his vision blurring again. As it was, he swore he could feel his mechanical heart skip a beat as he automatically reached out to take her hand in his. He blinked to clear his eyes and gain control once more.

"Hello, Seven. Please call me Jean-Luc. I am happy to finally meet you. And welcome to the Alpha Quadrant." He smiled at her and released her hand. "I would very much like to speak with you. May I have a moment of your time?" He gestured to a small, empty observation room off the docking bay.

"That would be…acceptable."

As they settled next to one another on a low, padded bench beneath a huge window, Picard took a good look at Seven, sitting to his left. He had seen the images from the Holodoctor's report, both before and after she had been transformed, but it was another thing entirely to see her in person.

This particular combination of Borg/Human intrigued him. Her implants, while reminding him she had been Borg, were subtle to the point of pleasing. He was, in fact, fascinated by them, looking first at the implant by her right ear, and then at the one above her left eyebrow, and finally to her left hand. Her skin was unblemished, translucent, her frame slim, and though he knew he was not a large man, he felt like a giant beside her.

"Seven, I must admit you are a most remarkable young woman."

She turned those crystal blue orbs to him again. "Because I was…Borg…and now I am not."

Her speech held an interesting cadence, a sort of halting step that made it appear as though she was unsure of what word she was going to use next. Perhaps she was. In any case, he was no longer startled by her straightforward manner of speaking. He held her gaze.

"Yes, that's part of the reason."

"And there is…more?"

"I thought I was the only one who had ever been…removed…from the Collective, but now I see there is you...and the New Cooperative." He was starting to sound a little like her.

"It was…New Cooperative…technology that helped Captain Janeway cut my…link to the…Collective."

Her statements were making it hard to respond, so he kept quiet. He thought he was ready for whatever else she might have to say, but he was wrong, and this time what she said nearly did serve to undo him.

"At first, when Captain Janeway…did this to me, I was angry. It was the only…emotion…I possessed. I remained angry for a…very long time, but as my…human physiology…began to reassert itself, I felt…less and less angry."

There was an odd pause this time, the silence filling with something more than merely a sense of figuring what the next word would be. When she did speak, her voice was hushed, intense, and edged with a human conviction he recognized very well.

"Now, I do…not…want to be returned to the Collective. If the Borg were to come today and…assimilate…me, I would hope you would…kill me."

And there it was, just as straightforward and as startling as everything else she had said so far, but given its own soul by the humanity blossoming within her.

_Forgiveness_. Forgiveness in the form of a request from a woman who only a few months ago would have assimilated him and everyone around him without a second thought.

He had finally come full circle. While it was possible for Borg to be rehabilitated, it was by no means an easy task, and it was also quite possible that they would rather die than become Borg ever again. He said a silent prayer for Ensign Lynch, and thanked whatever deities might have been responsible for his opportunity to meet Seven-of-Nine. He had been rewarded beyond his imaginings for his efforts on behalf of the crew of _Voyager_.

It was only the strict personal discipline he had cultivated over many years that kept him from embracing her the way many _Voyager_ crewmembers were being embraced at this very moment out in the docking bay. Instead, he did what he had come to do.

"Seven, may I escort you to the conference hall?"

**oOo oOo oOo**

Janeway later learned who had been responsible for all that had occurred after she and her crew arrived at Starbase 147.

Jean-Luc Picard.

He had convinced Admiral Hayes that it was vital to the health and well-being of the _Voyager_ crew that they be allowed to see at least one friend or relative before the debriefings began. Picard had said he would take care of all the plans himself, which he did, including arranging for anyone to whom a friend or relative could not be located to have a member of his own crew meet them.

Hayes drew the line at releasing imprisoned Maquis to serve as crew greeters, but Picard had managed to discover which of those Maquis knew _Voyager_ crewmembers and spoke personally with each one of them. He explained what he was doing and asked if they would be willing to forward a letter. None of them refused.

Calling upon every bit of his vast and diverse diplomatic skills and using all _Voyager_'s logs as evidence in his favor, Picard had also convinced the Admiral and all those behind him to do one more thing: grant full pardon to the crew of _Voyager_.

Jean-Luc Picard was a man of a fair number of years. He had not made it this far in his life without learning how to utilize the energy from even the negative emotions to move a few mountains.

**oOo oOo oOo**

When word of the return of _Voyager_ and subsequent pardon of her crew reached the ears of the Federation, Starbase 147 went up for grabs. Each day for the next week brought a transport loaded with more family, friends, and acquaintances than could seem possible for a ship the size of _Voyager_.

Actually, it wasn't possible. Ever since the relay stations' communication, pretty much everyone in the Quadrant had been keeping a keen eye out for news of this starship. When the news turned out to be quite a bit bigger than expected, the floodgates opened.

No one seemed too perturbed by it.

End


End file.
